It’s construction time.
Just quit! Reconstruct this life.
Hardware. Wood. Bricks.
Tall warehouse walls. Shelves.
Fuck this! Take me to the garden.
With the children. The nursery.
And nurse me. So hard to phathom.
All the freedom.

I need some green serenity.
Not weed. Not pink.
A compilation of scenery
pouring
out the oxygen we fiend for.
Interception. Score.
First down. Ten yards.
Now move forward.
Blades of grass. Made to last.
Replenish the nutrients.
Manage the fact of being
new to this.

Today, someone stole the
nozzle to my hose.
But I guess that’s what
my thumb’s for, you know,
I have the ability to control
the spray myself, and,
certainly I know how to
kink the green snake
to turn it off.

So many colors
making meaning.
Birds and the bees
taking virginity.
Breathing.

So much life. For miles and miles.
Flourishing flowers. For aisles and aisles.
Dirt. Rocks. Seeds.
Natural. Grow in a pot.
Human Being.
Renewed. Deeds due.
Reaped the awards
of simply being you.

Can’t forget the sun. The one who
has saved thee. Time after time when
we run for safety. Thick skin. Retreat to
this ninety-nine cent pen. Again.
Greenhouse. Skylight. Irrigation.
It’s time to start over. Begin.
My transparency wins because
you’ve inspected me from inside
my veins to my outside garden.

Of eden. You know my sins. Cleanse me.
Make amends with me. Shark teeth kill,
but his fins already saved me. Hold on.
The ride is bumpy. Water cures burns.
I heard love outlast time. And I’m still young.
Wave to be friendly. The lesson I learned.
Just seems to be repeating.
Over and over. I roll in my covers.
But I’m sleeping. In peace and
and I’m weeping because
this journey not only brings
joy, but tyranny, and ironically
everything will die, so
turn the soil and re-seed it.
Burn the oil and incense.
Nag Champa-my favorite.
Re-growth. New being.
Now you’ll see
the new
me.

And if you’re lucky,
you’ll know it.